A date has been set for the meeting with Applejack. I’ve got a week to mentally and emotionally prepare myself.

I am… not looking forward to this.

I told Derpy about the coming social apocalypse. She insisted that she be there too, which I'm thankful for, honestly. I’m still feeling sort of numb to this coming meeting. It doesn’t feel real yet. I can’t even conceptualize a version of this that doesn’t turn into a shouting match or actual slugfest. Derpy also said she’s going to ask the girls if any of them would want to be there which, again, I'm thankful for.

Speaking of the girls, they seem to be doing well. Lyra and Bon Bon are as close as ever. Lyra got a gig in Canterlot so she’s been practicing a lot. Bon Bon’s confectionary got a new sign out front. This is what qualifies as exciting in a small town, it seems.

Even Golden Harvest and Lily seem to be doing okay. They don’t fight as much in public. Ms. Harvest seems less hostile towards me. Lily is still a little awkward around me, but she’s been getting better. She’s still nervous around Derpy sometimes. Keeping secrets is hard for some ponies.

I want to put this out of my head. I’m still processing this whole thing.

But as much as I am nervous about the meeting.... I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT THE BALLS CRAZY SESSION FROM THE NIGHT BEFORE LAST!

The story starts just before midnight.

A new client wrote me. Asked for a late night rendezvous. The letter was very formal. The writing was very elegant. The stationary looked quite fancy.

Her knock was not the knock of a first-timer. I was almost surprised. Loud and confident.

The mare was stunning. Truly stunning. I almost forgot to greet her. She was big. Not chubby, not muscled, not tall and lanky. Just large. A head taller than me. A giant of a mare.

Despite her size she was elegant; she moved with preternatural grace. “Guilty, I presume.” Her voice carried a sort of weight. An authority.

“Yes,” was the best I could muster. She’d thrown me off my game. I gave my head a quick shake.

‘Back in the act, Guilty. What’s the matter with you.’

Coy smile. Raised eyebrow. Seductive voice. “And you must be my mysterious new client.”

She smiled. It was not the sort of smile I was used to receiving. A proud smile. Like she was telling me “good job”. She was odd. No embarrassment from a first-timer. No excitement from a regular client. No stress of someone who’d come to talk about troubles. I couldn’t get a bead on her.

Her horn began to glow as her coat levitated off of her frame.

Her body was gorgeous. Curves in all the right places. A long wavy mane. A dark blue coat that practically shimmered. Her cutiemark was actually quite plain. A single candle.

“Do come in. You must be freezing.” I was determined not to get knocked out of my groove again. I knew my role, even if hers was a mystery.. I’d be the best damn escort I could.

“Thank you, Guilty. May I call you Guilty?”

“Of course you may. On the condition that you tell me what I can call you.” Gentle body language. Suggestive smile. Smooth tone.

I led her to the living room table. Guided her to a seat. “Would you like some tea?”

She shook her head. “No need. I’m quite awake. Feel free to make some for yourself, if you require.”

“Oh I think I’ll be alright. The sight of you perked me right up.” Obvious flattery seemed appropriate. She wasn’t shy. She would appreciate the flirtation.

“Quick on the draw, aren’t we. Hopefully not so quick when it matters,” she fired back with a clever flirt of her own, followed by a measured smirk. I liked this mare already. “Now then. Let us begin.”

“Indeed.” I sat across from her, trying to size her up. What was she after?

“Midnight,” she interjected.

I looked at me clock. “So it is.” What was she getting at?

“That is what you may call me. That was your condition was it not?”

Ah. Of course. Keep it together, Guilty. “Seems appropriate.” I smiled. “So how did you hear about me? What brought you here?”

She looked around the room. “I’m not quite sure. I’d heard about you from a friend of the family. Something about you just… called to me. The idea of you was intriguing.” I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that.

“How do you mean?”

“A pony who picked up their whole life and settled down in an unfamiliar town away from anypony he ever knew. What causes a pony to uproot themselves like that?” She looked at me. She was sizing me up just as much as I was her. “You keep a lovely home. Very warm. Very…”

“Safe?” I offered.

“Yes… exactly so.”

“I’m glad you think so. Now, Midnight, if I may ask…” I waited for a response. An affirmative. Kept her in the conversation.

She nodded. Perfect.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m not so sure I have an answer. I could have you pleasure me. I could unload my stress and worry onto you. Complain about the hardships of my duties or the problems with my social life. I could even have you wait on me. Serve me tea, perhaps a cocktail. Worship at my hooves.”

I nodded. “All perfectly acceptable options.”

“Take your pick,” she said devilishly.

“I’m sorry?”

“I want you to choose what we do. Dealer’s choice, as it were.”

I’d… never had to deal with this dilemma before. Sometimes mares do something like this; ask me what I want to do. But when they ask they’re not really asking. They’re telling me that they want me to be in control. They’re asking to be servants.

This mare, however. She wasn’t. She wasn’t looking for some master-servant play. She was genuinely asking what I wanted to do. She was passing me the reins, curious as to where I’d steer us. I looked to her body language. Any tells? Any insights?

Nothing. Unreadable. A mare practiced in poker-face.

‘Perhaps honesty is the best policy.’

“There are a number of things I’d like to do. I’d absolutely love to pleasure you. You’re impossibly beautiful. You’re quite large, if you don’t mind me saying, and I rather like large mares. We could have all sorts of fun in the bedroom.”

Her expression maintained its confidence, but a blush did start to appear.

“I’d also love to hear more about you. You honestly intrigue me. I can’t figure out quite what you’re after. I feel like there’s some sort of ulterior motive for your visit but I don’t think it’s malicious.”

Surprise on her face for the first time. Impressed maybe? It wasn’t much more than a bluff but it seems to have worked.

“Or we could just enjoy the anonymous company. I barely know you. You barely know me. We could sit and sip cocoa. Read. Just be alone together for a night.”

“So… which will it be?” She’d regained her composure. She wouldn’t let me forget that I had to choose. I’d been hoping to redirect her.

I found myself… excited. I liked this. This was me putting my special talent to the test. Trying to unravel this mare. “Then let’s talk. Let’s get to know each other.”

She clapped her hooves together, a genuine smile on her face. It looks like I’d chosen correctly. This is what she really wanted. To talk. She was trying to get me to figure it out. “Very well. I propose a game. Would you fetch us some liquor?”

‘Hangover incoming. The mare could probably drink you under the table. Look at the size of her.’

“Very well. Would wine be okay?” I stood and began walking to the kitchen.

“Something stronger. Gin, if you have it,” she said somewhat teasingly. She could sense my apprehension.

I did indeed have gin. This was gonna be a rough one.

“Shot glasses too. We will need them.”

I returned with the necessary game pieces. Midnight’s magic poured a shot for each of us. “Now then. Here is the game. We will ask each other questions. If the other party chooses not to answer, they must drink.”

“Perfectly simple,” I replied.

“Additionally you cannot ask a question that has been asked. If I ask you what your favorite food is, you cannot ask me.”

Interesting. Added an element of strategy. You could ask a question you knew the answer to just to keep the other person from asking you.

“So. Let us begin. As I am the client, I shall ask the first question.”

“Go right ahead.” The game was on. Let’s see where she took this.

“What is it that you do for a living?”

She knew the answer to that. She just didn’t want me asking.

“I am an escort. I make love to mares for money.”

Midnight nodded. “Excellent. It is your turn.”

I pondered. “Your cutie mark intrigues me. What’s your special talent?” Innocent question. I assumed it was a gimme.

She chose to drink.

“Wasn’t expecting that.”

“But the unexpected is so much more interesting. Perhaps I’m just a candle maker, but the mystery of me drinking might deceive you into thinking I’m more exciting than I am.”

It seemed there was more strategy to this game than I thought.

“My turn. How large is your member?”

Does she think i’m shy about that? “On the small side.”

“Confident. I like that.”

“If I was ashamed of it, I’d be a poor escort.”

“Indeed.” She looked at her glass and drank the shot. “That one was free.” She looked very smug. Sure of her victory.

“I’m not the only confident one it seems.”

“I’m just enjoying the gin.” A lie. She was flexing. “Your turn.”

“What’s your biggest fear?” I ventured.

She frowned. Debating whether or not to drink. “Being alone.”

“A standard fear. No reason to hesitate there, Midnight.” A light jab. I saw a tender spot and poked it. That’s when you really see what ponies are like.

“My fear is different.” Quite an odd statement. “It is my turn?”

I nodded.

“How is your relationship with your father?”

That was not so much a jab as it was an uppercut. Did she know about my past?

‘You’re thinking too much. She was just lashing out, hoping to hit a sore spot of yours.’

I drank. It was basically an answer on its own.

“Poor Guilty. Unwanted? Unloved?” Venom in her voice. She was on the offensive.

Things had taken a turn for the cruel. “Let’s not be quite so caustic. Or are you just trying to upset me?” I felt some anger forming in my chest. That sort of shuddering tension in your lungs that precedes actual rage. I was indeed learning what sort of pony she was. One who didn’t pull punches.

She closed her eyes pensively and nodded. “Apologies. You… struck a nerve. I’m sorry. It is your turn.”

I cleared my throat. “Well, in the spirit of being kind to each other. I shall ask a kind question. Do you prefer to be on top or bottom in the bedroom?”

“Top. I recognize that I am quite large, but I don’t care for being under ponies. They’ll just have to endure my weight.” She shrugged.

Coy smile. “Some ponies like being crushed under a larger mare.”

“Some ponies like you?”

“That is your question, then?” I smirked.

She blinked. I’d tripped her up. “It would seem so.”

“Yes, I’d rather love being under you. Particularly having you use my face like a cushion.”

She blushed again. Still stoic, but clearly intrigued by the prospect.

“It is once again your turn, you clever stallion, you.”

“High praise.” I pondered. What could give me some insight into her identity. “Where do you live? I don’t recognize you from Ponyville.”

“Canterlot, these days.”

“And before?”

“That’s another question.”

Damn. “Very well. Your turn.”

“Where did you live before ponyville?”

“Ever clever.”

“You simply showed your hand. I’m capitalizing on it.” Ever smug. Ever sure of herself.

‘Not quite. She set a trap.’

“No, I think you showed yours first. You didn’t have to say ‘these days’. You did that just to make me curious. You wanted to trip me up, and you did.”

She smiled delightedly. “Oh, I do like you, Guilty. You’re sharp.”

“Not sharp enough, it seems. Manehattan. I grew up in the slums and I’m proud of it.”

“Hardship can only make you stronger. Assuming you survive. Good for you: making so much, coming from so little.” That odd sense of motherly pride again. Almost reminded me of Ms. Smile.

This mare was inscrutable.

“Moving on,” I said.

‘Think, Guilty. What can we find out?’

“Are you Canterlot nobility? You’ve got an aura about you.”

She scratched her chin. “No. I am not a noble.”

“Had to think on that one?”

“That’s another question.”

“A rhetorical one.” I swirled my little shot glass. What could she have to think about? You’re a noble or you’re not.

“My turn,” she interjected. “What type of clients do you most enjoy?”

Back to my profession. Maybe it was time to flirt again. “I appreciate candor. Mares who know what they want and make it clear. I also like a mare who can keep me mentally stimulated. It doesn’t hurt when they’re great big mares who like to be on top.” Lurid smile. Suggestive tone. Bedroom eyes.

She blushed again. This time allowing herself to smile. A small flick of the tail. She liked that. “I would say flattery will get you nowhere, but that would be a lie.” She flipped her mane a bit. By Celestia, was this mare gorgeous.

My turn. “What kind of stallions do you like?”

She shook her head. “Ah ah, Guilty. You can’t repeat a question.”

I had a workaround. “You asked me about clients. That’s a work question. I’m asking you about your personal tastes. See? Entirely different.”

She looked impressed. She seemed to enjoy it when I was clever. “I like you more and more, Guilty.”

“Does that mean you’ll answer?”

“Indeed.” It was her turn to be seductive.

Holy shit could she be seductive.

Her gaze locked with mine. I was entranced. Her eyes were a lovely cyan. Her voice came like liquid lust. I honestly got hard just listening to her. “I like smart ponies. Ponies who can keep up with me. Ponies who can surprise me. Ponies who aren’t afraid of their shortcomings. Ponies who like it when large mares use their face like a cushion.” She bit her lip a little. It was sexy. Way sexy.

I was flustered, but in a good way. That proper excitement at the prospect of physical pleasure. She got my heart racing and I was enjoying it thoroughly.

She noticed my, admittedly obvious, arousal and decided to push further.

“If I were to walk around this table right now, how would you want me to touch you?” She ran a hoof along the rim of her glass.

‘Be descriptive. She wants a story.’

“Well, to be perfectly honest, my jeans are far too tight at the moment. I’d ask you to take off my pants. I’d want you to see just how hard I am right now. I’d want you to wrap your lips around my shaft.”

One of her hooves began to slide between her legs. “Keep going,” she insisted.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

She drank. I realized that she was counting that as my question.

“I’d want you to slide me in and out of your mouth. I’d want you to indulge in the taste of me.”

“Mmm…” She moaned as her hoof began to slide along her marehood. “I’d like that.”

“Nothing’s stopping you,” I hinted.

“Oh, but the game is still afoot. I couldn’t very well ask you questions with my mouth full.” She leaned back, moaning louder as she fondled herself.

Turned on as she was, she was determined to keep playing her little drinking game. I began to rub myself through my jeans as I continued. Even through the denim, it felt good. “Well, then I’d want to empty myself into your mouth. Have you swallow my load.”

She began to speed up her hoof. I could hear the wetness between her legs. “Oh, I do love how it tastes. Stallion has such a nice flavor.”

“Then I’d want you to crawl on top of me. Push me onto my back.” I did my best not to finish. She might actually want something physical after her game, and I’d hate to blow my load early.

She was panting at this point. “Oh, Guilty, you’re going to make us feel so good.”

“I’d want you to slide your hips along my torso.”

“MMmm… keep going.” Her wings stood on end.

Wait, she was a unicorn. I’m mixing her up with somepony else.

I digress.

“I’d want you to press your crotch up into my face.”

“Yes… Oh heavens above.” Her hoof was really going to town.

“I’d curl my tongue around.”

“Fuck… ah!”

“Flick it across your clit.”

“So close!”

“I’d dive deep inside you and twist around in your depths until—”

“AAAAH! BY THE FUCKING MOON!” Everything about her spasmed. She shook with violent pleasure.

Against all odds I managed NOT to cum in my pants.

“Hah… hah… Guilty, you truly are a force to be reckoned with. We enjoyed that immensely.”

“Yes, we certainly did,” I agreed.

She cleared her throat and began to regain composure. “Let me catch my breath. Then our game shall continue.”

Incredible. Didn’t even miss a beat. “Still not satisfied?”

“It’s not your turn, Guilty,” she chided. “You’ll just have to wait while I collect myself.”

She once again took a shot of gin for the fun of it. She wasn’t even a little tipsy. “Now then. You’ve only had a single shot so far. Let’s ask something to get some booze in you. I won’t ask about your other clients, that’s practically cheating.”

“You’re very kind.”

“Ah, I know. What are the circumstances of the worst breakup you’ve ever had?”

‘When she hits she hits hard.’’

My erection shrunk a little. The question was well worded. She’d guessed correctly that I did not want to discuss that. At least, it seemed like a guess.

‘You’re paranoid. Just drink.’

I took my shot. The alcohol made me shiver a bit.

“Huzzah! Success!” she proclaimed. Once more she clapped her hooves together happily. “It is your turn. Let’s see if you can make me drink.”

“Okay, let’s see.”

‘Come on, find a gap in the armor.’

“What’s your most embarrassing sexual experience?”

She shot right up, eyes wide. She drank immediately.

“That bad?” I stifled a chuckle.

She swallowed her gin, waving her hooves in front of her as if to dispel the question.. “There are quite a few bad ones, and I’d rather not consider all of them. I’d die of embarrassment reliving the entire terrible catalog.”

I felt some small victory in that. “Very well. It is your turn, then.”

She took a deep breath. “Let’s see. Maybe something embarrassing for you as well.”

“Hit me with your best.”

She rubbed her chin. “Have you ever… no wait, I can phrase this better. What happened when you… got caught touching yourself in public?”

I squinted. “The question presumes that I have been caught masturbating. In public.”

She nodded. “It does, but it can still be answered, can it not?”

Unfortunately it could. “Well, in the past I have on occasion entertained mares outdoors. One time in an alley my client and I were pleasuring ourselves when a stallion walked by.”

She clicked her tongue. “I was certain you’d drink.”

“Tough break. Anyways he stared for a few seconds while my client and I froze. Eventually he just walked away and we ran for it.”

She sighed, defeated. “Hardly embarrassing at all.” She took another non-required shot. How much gin had she had? She was as sober as anypony. “Your turn again, Guilty.”

“Thank you, Midnight. Do I keep trying to embarrass you then?”

She groaned. “I suppose it would only be fair. I warn you though, there’s a very long list of things I’d rather forget.”

‘Let’s be kind. We don’t want to just embarrass her into submission.’

“A different direction then. Let’s get philosophical.” I called upon an old memory of myself and The Professor talking late at night behind the scenes at the stable.. We were stoned at the time. “Can we know for sure than anything is real?”

She looked curious. “Quite a pivot. You continue to surprise. No, we cannot, but it hardly matters. If reality is real to us, it’s not worth considering anything further. ‘I think, therefore I am.’ Hay Cart said that.”

I may have bitten off more than I could chew. She seemed quite versed in this subject.

“In the vein of philosophy: do you believe free will exists? Our brains just respond to stimuli and act upon them. Are we just machines of blood and bone, or is there something more inside of us? Something that defies the idea of cause and effect?”

“I…” that was a tough one. I’d thought about it before but never terribly seriously. “It has to. I think. I consider. I make choices. If I don’t have free will, what am I experiencing? Is every decision I make an illusion?”

“Is that your question? Or is it part of your answer?”

I rubbed my eyes. The booze and the late hour were catching up with me.

“My answer is yes. I have free will. I refuse to believe otherwise.”

“Interesting.” She chuckled ever so slightly. “Don’t worry. To this day we still don’t know what to believe.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Who’s we?”

She hesitated. I’m not sure about what. “We as in ponykind. There’s no clear cut answer out there. Don’t worry. I won’t count that as your question.”

Ever strange, this one. “You are a fascinating mare.”

“That’s not exactly a question.” She smiled. “But thank you.”

“Alright, another philosophical question.” I rubbed my hooves together.

‘Maybe we can spook her a little. Knock her off her game.’

“Can murder ever be justified?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No apprehension. Honest. Forthright. Unapologetic. “Some ponies say that there’s always a better way and those ponies are wrong.”

Scary. It took The Prof. and me hours to even reach the conclusion that maybe if the world depended on it, murder could be justified. She, on the other hand, seemed so confident in that from the get-go that it made me wonder…

“Have you ever killed anypony?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. It was such an outrageous question. “No… of course not…why would you ask that?”

She shrugged. “You asked if murder was justifiable. I thought maybe you felt guilty about somepony you killed long ago.”

“Well… no… I haven’t…”

“Your turn. That was my question.”

“Yes… yes it was.”

I felt goosebumps on my neck. I swallowed audibly. My attempt to rattle her had failed miserably. I was the one who ended up thoroughly shaken. I couldn’t think of anything clever, so I asked something almost aggressively banal. “What’s your favorite food?”

She had a deadpan expression. “Pancakes.” Unimpressed with my question, it seemed. “Moving on. What’s something interesting I could ask… OH!” She clicked her hooves together again. She liked this one. “Have you ever taken advantage of somepony’s feelings for you?”

My eyes went wide. I could suddenly feel my heart beating in my ears.

I couldn’t answer.

Had she just said that?

My jaw simply dropped.

“Was I unclear? Have you ever pretended to be in love with somepony in order to gain something from them?”

I couldn’t

How did she…

“Are you going to answer?” she asked.

I couldn’t

I drank

The gin was sour

“Veeeeeery interesting.”

I couldn’t find words.

“We’ll come back to this. Anyways it’s your turn.”

What was happening?

How did she know?

Who was this mare?

“How much do you know about me?” I wasn’t even thinking about the game. I was just demanding an answer.

She drank.

“DId I… did I trick someone you cared about?”

She drank again.

“Who are you?!” I screamed. I was shaking.

She drank a third time.

“Okay. That was three questions. It’s well my turn.” She was unfazed by my outburst.

I stood up. Marching around my table to face her directly. “I don’t want to play anymore. I want to know who you are.”

“Ah ah ah, Guilty. What happened to your golden rule? Pure discretion. Don’t go digging into my past.”

“You’re digging into mine.”

“True enough.”

“Either tell me who you are or leave… please.” I hated this. Who was this? I wanted her out of my home. Did she know Sunny? Did she know one of the other unfortunate mares I tricked?

“Last question. I promise. Then I’ll leave.”

“No.”

She stood up. I was reminded just how imposing she was. “I insist.”

I found myself terrified. “Just… fine… ask your question.” I stared at the floor.

Her hoof found my chin and wrenched it up to look at hers. Her eyes were a cold and deadly ocean-blue. The last color a drowning pony sees. “Are you a bad pony, Guilty?”

I swallowed.

I knew the answer.

“Yes.”

Her sturdy hoof released my chin. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. She was calm. I was not. This whole thing was surreal. This didn’t feel like reality. It felt fake. Like a scripted nightmare.

“Guilty.”

“Are you going to leave or not?” I was shaking.

“You are wrong.”

I shook my head. “What?”

Her eyes were kind again. Not the empty eyes I’d been looking into only moments ago. Her gaze was almost loving. I felt embraced by her mere presence. “You are not a bad pony.” Why was she telling me this? “You have hurt many ponies. You’ve hurt ponies in terrible ways.”

“I… I know… that’s why—”

“But that doesn’t make you bad.”

I wiped a tear from my cheek. I’d started crying. When did that happen?

“Guilty… no one goes through life without hurting anypony.”

“B-but I…”

“There are very few BAD ponies in the world. Most ponies are just doing their best. Some ponies hate you, rightfully so. But some ponies love you, rightfully so.”

A hoof wrapped around me, pulling me into her chest. She stroked my mane. I don’t know why, but I didn’t resist. It somehow just felt correct.

“I… I don’t deserve them…”

“You don’t. No one ‘deserves’ to have good ponies in their life. We are who we are, and sometimes other ponies choose to spend part of their lives with us.”

“But… but what about the ponies I’ve hurt.” I started to weep. Sobbing with my whole body. The sort of crying that only happens when you feel truly and utterly vulnerable.

“Nopony you blackmailed ever died because of it. None of them got hurt so bad they couldn’t bounce back. Yes… you hurt those ponies. But they’ve all begun to get back on their hooves. To varying degrees.”

“How can you know that?”

“We know. Trust us.”

For some reason I did.

“Why… why are you telling me this?”

“Because, Guilty. We care about you. We care about everypony. We care about the ponies who love you. Who hate you.”

“But I… I… I don’t understand… how I can… how I can be a good… good… pony. After e… e… e… everything I’ve done” I could barely form words. At this point I was getting tears and snot on her coat.

“Everypony has the capacity to turn their life around. You’ve certainly started to. You helped ponies you didn’t have to. Helped the mantle ray. You’ve fallen in love. And a pony has fallen in love with you.”

“But… but… I never got punished for the things I did. I never… I never asked for forgiveness. Never apologized. I just… I blackmailed them and disappeared.”

“It is true. Some of those ponies had their marriages and lives turned upside down. Some simply paid you to make you vanish. But here’s something thou might not believe. Some of those ponies are still together. Some of those ponies blame themselves more than they blame thee. And some of those ponies have even forgiven thee.”

She’d begun speaking so strangely. Like a knight from a fantasy novel.

“They can’t… they wouldn’t…”

“But Guilty, thou have hurt thyself over thine own wrongs more than anypony else ever could or would.”

“But I… I deserve it.”

“Maybe. But dost thou intend to punish thyself forever? How much must thou make thyself suffer before thou art forgiven.”

“I…”

“Guilty…”

“I…”

“Guilty, listen…”

“Wh-what?”

“Thou can stop. Stop thinking of thyself as a villain.”

“But… but it still feels like I am. I still feel like… I need some sort of divine punishment.”

“Shall we oblige you, then?”

“H-huh?”

Pain. She slugged me. Hard. I toppled back, landing square on my ass.

“Fuckin’... ow!” I rubbed my cheek.

“All is forgiven.”

“Wh-what?”

“We have struck you on the cheek. Look, thou art even bleeding. This is the punishment we deliver unto you. And now… we forgive you.”

It felt like the world was gone. Only her words remained.

“Now… rest. And when thou awaken, know that thou art allowed to be happy.”

I woke up on the floor of my living room. The fire I’d lit had burnt out. Drool was dried on the side of my face, which still smarted from Midnight’s punch. My breath reeked of gin. My back was sore as hell.

There was no sign of Midnight, with one exception. I found payment on my kitchen counter. One hour’s worth.

The whole thing felt… impossible. A gorgeous giantess. A battle of wits. Shock and horror followed by emotional catharsis. I still don’t know who she was. How she knew the things she knew. Why she tried to help me.

When I read back what happened it should objectively be scary. Some magical mind-reading mare, with impossible knowledge. If not for the coins and the half-empty bottle of gin I’d swear it was a dream.

But somehow I’m not scared. I feel like she really was just trying to help me.

Midnight, I don’t know who the fuck you are.

But thanks.

I think I’m a little more prepared for the upcoming meeting with Applejack.